


Dancing With Your Ghost

by robindrake93



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Noah wants to dance.





	Dancing With Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based off the song that inspired this, [Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qzc_aX8c8g4).
> 
> If you don't like the font color, click "Hide Creator's Style" at the top and it'll revert to black. Don't reupload/repost my fics.

When Ronan wasn’t going 110 miles per hour in a race car, when he wasn’t tramping through the woods with his friends, when he wasn’t throwing punches - Ronan was incredibly still. When he wasn’t going, going, going, he was the surface of a still pond. He waited for the next high speed moment to make waves in his life. 

Tonight found him in Monmouth Manufacturing, lying on his bed with music pouring through his headphones and his blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. It was as close to meditation as Ronan got. Caught between the changing of the seasons it was neither too humid nor too cold. 

Then the temperature dropped five degrees. The bed dipped beneath a weight that hadn’t been there before. 

Ronan didn’t have to look to know that the resident ghost/Ronan’s best friend had appeared. But he did roll onto his side so that they were facing each other. His headphones slid down around his neck and his music took on a tinny quality. 

Noah lay on his side facing Ronan. His head rested on both his hands. He was transparent, there but not. “Ronan,” Noah’s voice was the wind. His lips barely moved. 

Ronan pulled the blanket up to his chin to ward off the cold that Noah wore like a cloak. “What’s up, Noah?” 

Noah slid a hand beneath the blanket and touched Ronan’s arm. He became a little more opaque. The blue of his eyes became glacier vivid. “Will you dance with me?” Noah’s voice was closer to that of a boy than the wind. 

The chill of Noah’s touch wove down to Ronan’s bones. He shivered and his toes curled. Goosebumps broke out across his skin. Ronan didn’t like being cold but he liked being with Noah so he put up with it. “I don’t dance,” Ronan hedged. He knew how to dance because his mother insisted on teaching her sons but Ronan hadn’t danced in years. “Ask Gansey.”

Noah’s lower lip trembled. He was more opaque, could pass for a real boy now, but he looked like he wanted to disappear. To Ronan’s shock and horror, Noah’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh,” his voice was small and laden with hurt.

Ronan couldn’t handle tears. Fortunately, most people didn’t cry around him. But here was Noah - who Ronan had a soft spot for anyway - with tears rolling down his face because of Ronan. It wasn’t like a dance would cost Ronan much. Five minutes, maybe some embarrassment. And it would make Noah happy, which was always worth it. “Fine, we’ll dance.” Ronan used his thumbs to wipe away Noah’s tears. “Stop crying, baby.” Ronan has meant to say _‘you baby’_ but that was not what came out. He hoped Noah wouldn’t notice. 

Noah sniffled. He couldn’t get truly rumpled because he was dead but his tears stopped. Noah teleported from lying on the bed to standing beside it. Music began to play, the opening notes on a piano. Noah held a hand out to Ronan. 

Ronan took Noah’s hand. It was surprisingly solid in his own but the temperature was like holding onto snow. He shivered again. 

Noah cocked his head. He picked up something that Ronan had discarded on his dresser and forgotten about months earlier. “Wear this one.” It was the suit jacket that Ronan had worn to Noah’s funeral. 

Ronan was slow to take the jacket and put it on. It didn’t go with his jeans and he was barefoot. The jacket was for formal occasions. But Noah didn’t seem to mind any of those things. 

“You’ll always be handsome to me, Ronan.” Noah said it so earnestly that Ronan couldn’t think of anything sarcastic to say back. It conjured up the mental image of Ronan as an old man and the ageless ghost before him still holding out his hand for a dance.

Ronan’s heart beat fast in his chest. The space was small so they had to be close. He put his hands on Noah’s waist. It wasn’t the first time Ronan had put his hands on Noah but those times had been in a different context (like to throw Noah out of a window). 

Noah put his hands on Ronan’s shoulders. They shuffled around the room for a few moments in an awkward imitation of a slow dance. 

“You suck at this,” Ronan said. He kept his voice low so that Gansey didn’t hear. It was likely Gansey already heard the music but music coming from Ronan’s room wasn’t unusual.

Noah huffed, offended. “I’ve never danced like this.” 

“Clearly.” He took the lead, tried to guide the dance in the way he remembered his mother did when he was a child. They slowly spun around the room, careful not to bump into furniture or trip over random debris. Now that Ronan was leading, things went smoother. The dance was slow and easy and much more intimate than Ronan expected it to be. It was even more intimate than the scratches that Noah left in his skin on bad nights.

Noah’s footsteps were silent. He got the rhythm as they continued, settled into the repetitive motions. As the song wound down, Noah rested his cheek against Ronan’s chest. Now that they were moving and Noah had leached a good period of Ronan’s energy, he was lukewarm to the touch. “Thank you for this.” His voice was low and hoarse. 

Ronan pressed his cheek against Noah’s silky soft hair. He smelled like frost and rotting leaves. It was a good smell because it was Noah’s scent. “You’re welcome,” Ronan said. He was surprised to find his voice as hoarse as Noah’s; as though the dance between them had stolen their voices.

The song faded only for another one to come on. Well, they technically hadn’t stopped dancing so this was still Ronan’s one dance with Noah. 

“I danced in clubs and in the woods,” Noah explained. “But I never got to dance ...like this.” 

Ronan knew what Noah was talking about. There wasn’t an Aglionby boy who hadn’t danced in at least one club and they made it a point to go into the woods to dance and drink at least once a year. More, if you were certain boys with white Mitsubishis. “I haven’t danced like this since my mom taught me.”

Noah brought them to a gentle halt. The music continued to play but they were still. He looked something like happy but there was a familiar resignation in his eyes. “I’m going to disappear,” he warned Ronan. He was becoming more transparent by the second, more a suggestion of a boy than the real thing. “Can we do this again?” His voice was the wind again.

“You’ve got my number,” Ronan joked. He hated it when Noah disappeared. He wished there was a way to keep Noah forever. 

Something cold brushed against Ronan’s lips. “I appreciate it, Ronan.” Noah’s voice sounded far away. The music stopped abruptly.

Ronan was left in a ringing, hollow silence. He dove for the bed, burrowed beneath the covers and shivered until the worst of the chill was gone. Ronan touched his fingertips to his lips. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that that had been a kiss. If he was honest - and Ronan was always honest - he didn’t want to know better. If his first kiss was to a ghost, then that was alright with him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment. Thanks for reading!


End file.
